


The Secret Origins of Shane Morningstar

by Siria



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: In which Shane Madej has an unusual thirty-third birthday.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 36
Kudos: 173





	The Secret Origins of Shane Morningstar

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Trin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trinityofone) for betaing.

"I thought he was English," Maze said, peering over the side of the balcony at the Lux dance floor. "And shorter."

"That was the other one," Lucifer said waspishly. "Why the hosts of hell continue to think that I _want_ to sire the Antichrist is beyond me. Not to mention the fact that collecting your king's supernatural seed and using it to impregnate random human women is crossing several workplace boundaries."

Maze shrugged. "Want me to get rid of him?"

Lucifer sighed. "No, no. Pretty sure it's bad form to order the execution of your own offspring. Even if he does dress like that." Not to mention that the Detective would give him one of _those_ looks if she found out he had, and Lucifer was finding himself increasingly reluctant to make her face do that.

"Well," he said, heading for the elevator. "Send him on up. Might as well get the tearful introduction and terrified screaming over with."

* * *

But it turned out that Shane Madej—the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness, or at least the understudy for all those titles—wasn't particularly interested in either tearful introductions or terrified screaming.

"So this is weird, huh," he said, looking around Lucifer's penthouse with every indication of at least mild curiosity.

"Weird," Lucifer echoed, pouring the last of the bottle of Lagavulin into his glass.

"Well, a guy doesn't turn 33 every day, for one thing," Shane said. "And for another..." He reached into the pocket of his rumpled blazer—corduroy; well he had to get _that_ from his mother, whoever she was—and produced a piece of paper which he unfolded. "I generally don't open my front door most mornings to find a letter on extremely fancy paper from a law firm telling me that I've failed to uphold my hereditary obligation to be the Antichrist and bring about the end of, etc, by my thirty-third birthday, whereas on my conception the party of the first part legally undertook to, etc, and if I feel that my biological father, Lucifer Morningstar, Prince of the Infernal Pit and currently of 666 Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles, has failed in his parental responsibility to ensure that I get to rule the world, they are happy to offer legal representation on a no-win, no-fee basis. So yeah... Weird."

"Oh, that lot," Lucifer said with a roll of his eyes. He'd always found the Senior Partners to have a shocking penchant for melodrama. "Always keen to exploit a loophole."

"And what's weirder," Shane said, putting the letter back in his blazer pocket, "is that you don't seem particularly confused by this. I mean, I googled you, you actually are a guy called Lucifer Morningstar who really does live at this address—"

"It seemed better to just lean into the aesthetic," Lucifer said.

"—although the internet's sort of evenly split as to whether this is a front for a brothel or the Mafia or something even more bizarre."

"Well, the internet does have a long-running tendency to use its imagination in ways that are frankly silly."

Shane scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Point is, you don't seem like the kind of guy who needs the money enough or has the free time or interest to get roped into playing along with a really weird bit about a total stranger. I mean, this seems like it should just be Ryan going all in for a bit because it's my birthday, even if the Satanic themes are sort of out of his comfort zone. Or were you hired by a fan? I know some of them get a bit, you know, intense with the theories about how I'm actually a demon or a human-'squatch hybrid or something, and whatever, but I do like some boundaries."

"Ryan?" Lucifer very much hoped he didn't have a third offspring running around. Fatherhood was so tedious. He swallowed a healthy mouthful of whiskey.

"Oh, Ryan's my partner. Business partner, berry-boy partner, hunting non-existent ghosts partner, boyfriend partner. Lotta partners, two people. I guess you could say we're pretty efficient." Shane jerked a thumb over his shoulder in an indeterminate direction. "He's waiting in the car. I told him I wanted to meet my 'dad'"—here Shane made quotation marks with his fingers which conveyed what Lucifer thought was an undue degree of sarcasm—"for the first time by myself, but he's wearing like, bandoliers of holy water and sweating and mumbling a lot and I honestly thought he was about to have a stroke, so I figured even if this is for a bit I should make this part a solo thing. Ryan can get way too method for his own good"

"I see," Lucifer said, although he didn't, but then again they did say there was someone for everyone, didn't they? "Well, no, I wasn't hired by anyone. You're definitely my offspring, no mating with a sasquatch needed for anyone—"

Shane made a face. "Ugh, gross."

"—I could sense that as soon as you walked through the door. Congratulations, you're the Antichrist— _an_ Antichrist—and I'm your dad, Lucifer Morningstar, prominent area businessman and Lord of Hell. Although admittedly I'm on sabbatical from the latter."

"Okay, still going to apply Occam's Razor here and say this is the point where the hidden camera zooms in on my reaction, right, and then everyone jumps out and yells surprise, right?" Shane said. "They're all just hiding behind the... Is that a _sex swing_?"

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we," Lucifer said, knocking back the last of his drink and setting his glass down on the bar. He walked out into the middle of the room and rolled his shoulders before unleashing his wings, relishing the sense of release. "I started out an angel, then there was a minor family conflict—" He pulled the wings back in and let his Devil Face out. "—I fell from Heaven, ended up with a new gig, some of my employees did a tad too much coke in the '80s, can't believe I'm saying that, and you were one of the results. You are following all this, aren't you?"

Generally speaking his offspring looked like a man who needed a little more sunshine in his life, but right now Shane was worryingly pale. He took a step back.

"Because I think you can sense it, can't you?" Lucifer said, letting his Devil Face recede and shaking out his shoulders. "You've always known there was something about you that was a little different, hmm? Something that liked the thought of chaos and anarchy and nihilism because at the core of you that's who you are—or could be, at least.

"Oh," and Lucifer said, in the interests of full disclosure, when Shane showed no sign of immediately responding, or, frankly, of closing his mouth, "and that _is_ a sex swing, yes, but I have to say I've been disappointed in that particular model. Can't even trust a five-star Amazon review these days, which says something shocking about the human condition."

* * *

"The garlic's not going to do anything, you know. I'm the Devil, not a vampire," Lucifer said, but although he was once again reduced to being the voice of reason, his offspring's boyfriend didn't seem particularly inclined to pay much attention.

"And you should know," Ryan said, voice shaking, "that I'm armed with holy water that comes straight from the Vatican." He had a crucifix clutched in one white-knuckled hand and a set of rosary beads in another, and Shane was—well, he was looking fondly at him.

It took all sorts, Lucifer supposed.

"And if you're going to use your, your _satanic wiles_ on him—"

"Ew," Shane said, who'd recovered his equilibrium with remarkable speed. "Jesus Christ, Ryan."

"Look, my family may be dysfunctional, but not like that," Lucifer said. He remembered that Maze was currently hung up romantically on her estranged mother's awful ex-husband's second wife, who was also his ex-girlfriend. "Not technically speaking."

"—to make him carry out the apocalypse or whatever," Ryan continued, "I will stop you." This declaration might have been a tad more convincing if his forehead hadn't been beaded with sweat.

"Touching," Lucifer said, "but there won't be any apocalypse."

"Not on my agenda, bud," Shane said, patting Ryan gingerly on the shoulder. "Why get rid of a world that's got the Cheesy Gordita Crunch in it?"

"He couldn't even if he wanted to," Lucifer continued. "I never activated his powers."

"His what?" Ryan said.

"My _what_?" Shane said.

"Well, there are rituals and paperwork like you wouldn't believe and after the first time around it seemed like such a pain in the arse to go through it all again when I had no particular desire to end the world any time in the near future. " Lucifer paused and considered. "Though I suppose given that I'm on an extended leave of absence from my day job right now, that's probably got some supernatural consequences. Ineffable ones, even. If I'm not technically in command of a host of the infernal damned and I've got no particular job expectations to bring about anything apocalyptic, I bet I could just..."

Lucifer snapped his fingers.

Shane fell over.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" Ryan snapped at Lucifer, all appearance of fear gone. "If you—"

Shane sat up, eyes as big and round as if he'd managed to get into Lucifer's stash of the good molly, and clutched at his head. "What... How..." He squinted up at Lucifer. "Is my... everything... supposed to be doing this right now?"

"Probably?" Lucifer hedged. "Can't say I've ever undergone a fundamental shift in the nature of my being, personally. But you know, Detective Douche says that focusing on a horizon always works wonders for him when he's got motion sickness. Maybe try that?"

"Uh." Shane turned his head and looked up at Ryan. He squinted, rubbed his eyes, squinted again. "Wait, hold up, does Ryan have an _aura_? I can see auras now? Auras are a thing?"

"I have an aura?" Ryan made an even more abrupt shift from anger to delight. "Dude, what colour is it?"

"Auras are such fucking bullshit. I object. No, no, this isn't," Shane said weakly, tried to stand, and then promptly doubled over and vomited onto Lucifer's rug, which had been a personal gift from a shah of Iran in 1547.

You know, people always said you could never understand parenthood until you'd experienced it yourself, and that was, Lucifer thought sagely, too true.

* * *

All things considered, though, meeting his offspring's boyfriend for the first time went somewhat better than did properly introducing Shane to Maze. Lucifer had been expecting at least a modicum of antipathy on Maze's part—jealousy, distrust, _something_ —but within five minutes she was teaching Shane knife tricks. Within thirty, she was telling Shane some rather embarrassing anecdotes about that last go-round with an Antichrist, while he was mining her for details about famous figures from history that she'd tortured over the millennia. Inside of an hour, Shane—admittedly having knocked back a quantity of tequila—was asking her if he could call her Auntie Maze.

"On account of how you're a badass," he said, with all the solemnity of the tipsy, before winking with wild exaggeration at her.

Maze looked over at Lucifer and beamed. "I like your large human son."

* * *

Meeting your offspring for the first time seemed like an occasion which should be marked somehow. Lucifer chose to do so by calling in a favor or three with a local tailor, acquiring Shane a bespoke suit and a rather fetching pair of Italian loafers, and then throwing him an absolute banger of a party at Lux.

"None of these excuses," Lucifer said, chivvying Shane into putting the jacket on and heading down to the club. "I flew in a DJ from Ibiza, it's a history-themed costume party, I even used food colouring to dye the drugs fun colours, what more could you want?"

"Just so you know, I'm opting for the path of least resistance here," Shane said. "Because I feel like there's going to be a twist here involving an avocado and a—wait, is that— _how_ did he even get a—"

Shane vanished onto the dance floor in search of Ryan, and Lucifer basked in the warm glow of knowing that his lineage of hedonism was apparently in safe hands.

You might not think it to look at him, but his offspring could be quite remarkably bendy when he wanted to be.

Somewhere around three in the morning—or was it four? One of the hours when humans tended to get either very ridiculous or marvellously inventive—Shane came and found Lucifer on the upper level from where he was surveying the dance floor.

"Having fun?" Lucifer asked, for the sake of politeness. He didn't think he really needed to ask—Shane was flushed and bright-eyed and from the looks of it had been thoroughly enjoying both himself and Ryan down there, not to mention attracting a whole passel of superheroes and Cleopatras and various varieties of Slutty Professional to cluster around them. Lucifer didn't think Shane had been doing it consciously, but then again he didn't think Shane realised the full extent of the powers he'd just come into—the fascination he could exert with greater ease than most humans could lift a finger.

The responsible parental thing to do would be to sit Shane down and have a talk with him.

Maybe Lucifer would get Amenadiel to do it instead.

"Super fun, super weird," Shane said, rocking back on his heels. "Auntie Maze mixes a hell of a strong... whatever I drank. Ticked at least seven or twelve things off my bucket list that I didn't even know were on there."

"Excellent!" Lucifer beamed. Perhaps he was just a natural savant at this whole parenting thing. "Is there anything else I can do to cap off the 'Welcome into the Celestial Family' event? Do you need a college thing? Savings? That all sorted? I could buy you a Harvard, if you need one."

"Nah, I'm good, but thanks, I guess?" Shane shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, which ruined the lines of the suit rather tragically, but since Lucifer hadn't been able to make him do anything about the facial hair it was all rather of a piece. "There is one thing I've got to ask, though," he said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the music—the DJ had decided that now was the appropriate time to break out the Chumbawamba, which judging by the moshing Ryan greatly appreciated.

"Ah, right. Yes." Lucifer had been preparing himself for a moment like this. A question about Shane's mother, or the nature of his Fall, or whether Shane could now use his powers to rule over the Earth in a reign of terror and et cetera. He squared his shoulders. "Ask away."

Shane said, with every appearance of great earnestness, "Pop. Was Ben Franklin in a sex cult?"

* * *

"I just don't get how he's _English_ ," Ryan said, contemplating the ceiling of Shane's bedroom. "Is the accent like a metaphor or something?" He wrinkled his nose and said, in a careful but awful Cockney accent, "'Ello 'ello. Leominster. Taking the Tube. Worcester. Worcescescescester."

Shane was wrapped around him, the two of them tangled up in the bedsheets and Shane's very fancy new suit sadly bedraggled on the floor. They were sticky and sweaty and normally Shane would do something about that, but whatever Maze had put in those blue drinks had really done a number on him and he found he didn't care.

He was an Antichrist, and his biological dad was Satan, and Ryan was his hot boyfriend, and if the _Unsolved_ fans ever found out any of this, the resulting memes would be so incredibly obnoxious.

"I think it's ineffable," Shane said. "Somehow? The important thing is that I was still born beneath the Bean, baby."

"Points for alliteration," Ryan said, "but please don't call me baby."

"Oh?" Shane rolled over until he was on top of Ryan, and he was thirty-three whole years old now but apparently the supernatural refractory powers were a real thing because he could feel his cock stirring again. With great power came great, et cetera, or something. "You want a different title? The Bride of Satan's Son? Chief Consort of the Junior Antichrist? The Diabolical Bergooz?"

"You," Ryan said, looping his arms around Shane's neck, "are insufferable."

"Well thank you," Shane said, "but I think you'll find that—"

Shane never got to finish that thought, because his wings chose that moment to manifest for the first time, and between Ryan's screaming and Obi's hissing, everyone was a bit distracted for a while.

* * *

"Why are you still watching this, exactly?" the Detective asked, sitting down on the couch next to Lucifer and offering him some of her popcorn. "Or... sort of watching it, I guess."

"Well, it seems like the sort of thing you're supposed to do as a parent, doesn't it?" Lucifer gestured at the screen. "You go to Trixie's sports things and pretend that watching small children throwing small balls around a patch of grass is rewarding in some way. I do this so I can truthfully tell my offspring that I've watched his internet thingy. I'm just making very good use of the fast forward button while doing so." He skipped through the opening minutes of several of the episodes. "I just don't know why they have to take so long talking about the very obvious? The pigtail pulling is very charming, but honestly, an obvious plane crash, total misidentification, the husband did it, they don't even come close to getting it right in that one... At least the cartoon parts are charming."

The Detective's brow furrowed. "Cartoon? I thought this was about them pretending to solve crimes on the internet."

"Yes, but there are cartoons as well," Lucifer said, searching around until he found an example. "See?"

Several sentient cartoon foodstuffs cavorted across the lower half of the screen, while Shane provided the narrative and voices. Slowly and steadily, the Detective's jaw dropped.

"It's quite good, isn't it?" Lucifer said, pleased. "An animated character who is French fries! _Creativity_. He gets that from me."

"It's... something," the Detective said.

"Your taste is excellent as always, Detective," Lucifer said, and stole a handful of her popcorn. Maybe he was cut out for this fatherhood stuff after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this is also a low-key Buffyverse crossover, because if you're going to write a bananas crossover fic, why not shoehorn in as many fandoms as possible?


End file.
